Knowing Me Knowing You
by Clairefable
Summary: it's the best I can do


A/N: CRACK ALERT! CRACK ALERT!

Yep, time for some delicious, rage inducing crack from my good self. The other unnamed character *IS* a canon character and not an OC, and shouldn't be too hard to guess since, y'know, it's me, and anyone who knows me won't even need to read this to guess who it is, and, uh, for anyone who doesn't know me, there are more than enough clues. P: And for God's sake, don't bother baawing over the pairing if you don't like it, I've heard it a million times before. :V

Sort of follows manga events, and I guess would be set between the end of the RBY fic where the eeeeeeeeeevil Elite Four get their butts handed to them on Cerise Island and, er, promptly disappear, and before Groudon and Kyogre decide to fuck Hoenn's shit up.

That's about it, I guess. Onto the craptacular, CRACKTACULAR, fic! \o/

* * *

She was not the kind of person one would expect to find wandering.

He, on the other hand, had perfected it.

There was something inevitable about how their paths would cross; her reputation preceded her as calculating, cold minded and frigid- a ruthless trainer from foreign shores who would show no mercy to anyone foolish enough to challenge her. When he, the reigning League Champion finally saw her for himself it was clear to him that she was lost, both literally and metaphorically- _a rebel without a cause_.

He never asked her name and he never gave his, for neither of them needed to. Her beautiful face devoid of all expression, she would scornfully greet him as "Sir" with no effort to hide the contempt in her voice. Someone like him, she was sure, could never understand the things she had witnessed with her own eyes, how careless and selfish and brutal mankind could truly be to those he considered to be inferior forms of life. The heartbreaking sight of her first pokemon choking feebly against the filthy polluted water clinging to it's pristine white coat and slowly strangling the life from the poor creature would never leave her. The untouched majesty of the island of her birth never stood a chance against humans and their precious "progress".

He, however was born into wealth and raised in an ivory tower, wrapped in cotton wool and ignorant of what true suffering was, or so she would spit at him. The stones he had on him, glittering in the fading sunlight, were a testament to how easy he had it if he could afford to indulge in such frivolous pastimes. He had no place to judge her or her beliefs, although he never once said anything to suggest that he did.

Over time he learned to take her abuse with good humour as the venom in her tone became gentler, and she would even let her poker face slip- just for a second- to give him the faintest of knowing smiles.

Once, in a rare show of vulnerability, she asked him if he truly knew who she was. He was, after all, world famous, where as she was just _infamous._

He told her that he knew, of course he knew, but said nothing more. Her furrowed brow begged him to continue, but he silently continued on his way until they would meet again, as they always seemed to do.

_"I'm a wanted criminal," She demanded, "A terrorist. That's what they called us."_

_"And what does this mean to me?"_

"_Doesn't that bother you?" Her pitch rising with surprise, "It wouldn't look so good for you to be seen with someone with my… how shall we put it… colourful past?"_

_He merely shrugged._

_  
"Perhaps the question should be… does your past bother you?"_

"_Do you always answer a question with a question?!"_

"_I'm just giving you something to think about."_

_Her eyes narrowed as she pondered this, and he saw it once again, although only briefly- that wistful, faraway look in her green eyes that she couldn't hide, not behind the lenses of the glasses framing her face, nor behind the scarlet strands that fell over her forehead- the look of someone who was missing something._

"_It doesn't matter now, does it?" She answered quietly, "I can't change it, even if I wanted to."_

"_No, you can't. But that doesn't mean that it has to determine your future."_

It was the turning point in their strange relationship that had no other foundations than their fleeting encounters on the road, which now, she noted, were becoming fewer and further between. He no longer seemed to be carefree- a quality that had infuriated her before but now the absence of it caused a strange sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach- he was distracted, his forehead creased in deep concentration, and he looked pale and drawn and exhausted. She would have invited him to confide in her if they had been closer or if she just knew how to make others open up to her, but now she could only watch- still wearing the same neutral expression- with a heavy heart as he passed her by, both greeting her and making his excuses to leave at the same time.

Soon enough it was no longer just him- the whole region seemed agitated.

Maybe it was time for her to be moving on once more.

It was as she mulled this over, idly gazing out at the endless waters that stretched towards the islands that she once called home, that he approached her for the last time. He was breathless as though he had trekked miles to find her, and her heart dropped a little at how much he had seemed to age since their last meeting. Her maroon eyebrows shot up into her fringe involuntarily at his fatigued appearance, and if he didn't know better he'd swear she even appeared to be- dare he say it- concerned. This time he did not hurry off on some important duty, though his mind was still a million miles away. They stood in silence, the air heavy with the weight of things unsaid.

Finally he told her, in as little detail as possible and without once making eye contact, that he wouldn't be able to see her anymore and that he'd come to say goodbye. She nodded, resisting the urge to bombard him with questions about where he had been and what he had been doing and did he know how worried she was and that whatever was happening he could tell her if he wanted and-

-she finally cracked when he turned to leave, his back facing her. Before either of them knew what she was doing, she threw her arms around him, stopping him in his tracks and burying her face in the fabric of his jacket.

"Steven," She spoke quietly, addressing him by his name for the very first time and in a hushed tone as though she were not worthy of speaking it, "What will I do now? Where will I go?"

"…go home. It isn't safe here anymore."

His body was tense and rigid and he forced himself not to look at her.

"I have nothing to go back for…"

"Make peace with your family, like you said you wanted to. Stop running from your past, and move on. You cannot do that here."

"But… but I…"

Her grip tightened, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him. Not yet.

"…if I go back…" Her voice was barely a whisper, "Will you promise to come find me one day?"

His eyes snapped shut. How could he tell her that she would never see him again? How he longed to tell someone, the burden of knowing his time was nigh was driving him to insanity, but he could not do that to her. If only she knew, she would never accuse him of not knowing anguish ever again.

"I promise… that I will try."

He meant it.

Eventually, reluctantly, she relinquished her hold on him and he was gone and out of her life without ever looking back.

She left because she had nothing to stay for.

He left because he had somewhere he needed to be.

* * *

Oh God, I hate that intro and that ending but I really couldn't think of anything else. Well done if you made it this far! Also it appears I like naming fics after songs- suppose it saves me thinking of my own titles. :B


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